


Pinspired

by KeJae



Category: Chuck (TV), White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeJae/pseuds/KeJae
Summary: This is another collection inspired by Pinterest. However, it's focused on pins instead of direct prompts opening a wider variety of options to tinker with.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Artistic Renderings

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a soul mate AU where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/etc, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.

*******

Sara would always remember the first time it happened.

She had been sitting in Mr. Landy's English class when she noticed something on her arm. It was a note to remember to do a list of assignments. There was an English report, a list of algebra references, a government paper, and something that sounded science-related.

Unable to help it, she giggled.

Jumping as a ruler slapped down on her desk, she looked up to see the teacher frowning down at her.

Unfortunately, while she'd been discovering the first notes from her soul mate, she'd been remiss in attending the lesson. "I'm sorry, Mr. Landry." She covered her arm up and tried to ignore the attention she realized she'd garnered from her classmates. Everyone was staring at her.

"Pay attention, you can try to deduce who he is after school. Should this happen again, you'll need to remain after class." Then he returned to the front of the room and resumed the lesson as if the interruption hadn't occurred.

Later, after school, she stood in front of the building with her friends waiting for their parents to pick them up. They were analyzing the list and trying to decide if the boy could be local or if she'd have to wait to meet him someday. Unfortunately, the list was too generic for them to decipher anything other than him being in more advanced classes than they were.

Although it varied when soul mates began seeing messages from each other, it was a rite of passage for young people that was eagerly anticipated.

Hearing a horn honk, the group broke up realizing that one of their mothers had arrived. Then it quickly followed that the rest of the mothers arrived to take the girls to their respective homes.

Getting into the car when her mom arrived, Sara eagerly showed her the list on her arm indicating that the boy was smart.

Looking serious, her mother tried to show a general acceptance before she focused on moving through the school traffic.

Growing quiet, Sara didn't understand why her mother wasn't excited for her. Her friends had told tales of their mothers sitting them down and sharing the first things they'd gotten from their fathers. Was there something wrong?

When they got home, her mother went about her usual routine leaving Sara to her own tasks.

Rushing through her homework, Sara couldn't wait to get a pen and write back to the boy.

Once she was free to her own devices until dinner, she picked up the pen and touched her arm to write, but then she stopped unsure of what to say. How do you address your soul mate for the first time?

Deciding to go with the initial introductory question, she asked what his name was.

The wait was excruciatingly painful as there was no answer for several minutes. Then, a line started down her arm followed by a curve. "D" she read while she waited for the next letter. Derrick, Daniel, Dominic, she started running through names it could be. "A" the list changed to Daniel, David, Damian. Squealing to herself she was excited to see him answering her. "N, Daniel?" When he finished the name, she sighed, her Danny was writing her!

"What's yours?" He queried back.

"Sar" she was starting the second a when her mother pulled the pen out of her hand.

"You will not communicate with him, not until you're eighteen! We already lost your sister when she chose to run away with her soul mate, and we aren't going to lose you the same way!" Then her mother stormed off in angry tears unable to face the situation or the memories any longer.

Quelled, Sara was frozen in realization. That's why her sister had run away?

Fleeing to her room, she was no longer as excited by the first messages of her soulmate as she was sorrowed by her sister's decisions. Crying on her arm, her tears washed smears into the writing until it wasn't so readable anymore.

That was the only time she wrote to her soul mate. She knew his name and he knew the first letters of hers. He never wrote back either, but he still used his arm as a means of communication.

From then on she never saw the list of assignments. Instead, each night after she finished her homework she could sit and watch the colors explode on her arms. She didn't know what medium he used, paint perhaps, but he would slowly start at the wrist and paint imagery up her arm of flowers and vines, birds, butterflies, patterns, or whatever seemed to be on his mind to share with her. Sometimes it would be rough as he used his lesser hand or tried something new, while others would take her breath away.

It was the best part of her days as time passed so she couldn't help but smile in eager anticipation as he tried to share pieces of himself or brighten her days.

Then, as she was getting closer to eighteen and the time she could communicate back again, there was an accident and she lost her parents in one sudden event. For the first time in her life, she was alone.

Things were a blur after that as she had to go through the process of her whole life-changing. There was the funeral, her things being packed, their home being emptied and sold, and the brief time in temporary foster care as she was eighteen only a few weeks later.

Finally, as an adult able to make her own decisions, she was too overwhelmed by life and trying to determine where to go to worry about communications with Danny. He'd be there later, when she had her head on straight and wouldn't break down on him, right?

Or wrong, she later discovered.

By the time she was able to use her scholarships to proceed with her college plans, got through the expedited class load that she used as a distraction, and then got a job starting in an insurance company called Sterling and Bosch, the painting had stopped.

Danny no longer painted on his arms and she never saw any mark to indicate that he was still actively doing anything. There wasn't even the random accident of something getting on his arm for her to know he was still around. Had something happened to him?

Fearing the worst, she couldn't bear the risk of asking if he was okay and never getting an answer. Instead, she chose to proceed with her life and wait to see if he ever wrote anything more to her.

Again, time passed and she climbed the ranks until she was basically a high dollar repo woman. She talked to people, she dated with only one more serious relationship, and there was the case of the stolen Raphael that seemed to keep popping up again as it remained unsolved, but no one got too close. There'd been too much loss in her life for her to want to risk it again on anyone she couldn't depend on.

Then one day a case caught up to her. She woke up in the middle of the night to find one Neal Caffrey dressed in black and armed with an assassin's gun standing in her bedroom. Fortunately, Peter called before things got too interesting to confirm that Neal was on a case and she had an enemy.

Going along with the situation, she took the gun and fired two shots into her floor before sending Neal to finish his role. Meanwhile, agents slipped into her home through the back door and walked her out to the van before driving her back to the Federal Building.

She was only half-dressed, but as her shirt was long enough to generally cover she was more focused on discovering who was out to kill her. Once they had a direction, she barked out requests like a ranking agent ignoring Peter's and Neal's reactions. Someone wanted her dead so she'd stay out of the way in the field, but she wasn't going to hide in some safe house, she was going to fight back and the office was the best place to do so.

Complying, Peter worked with his team to set her up while Neal decided to help her deal with the situation. For the first time since her parents had died, she was forced to face how alone she was in the world. And it wasn't a pleasant experience. Neal's gentle company and friendly distraction did more than he'd ever know.

It was their conversation on the roof that took some of her walls down. Neal was the first person she told about her sister and the untimely loss of her parents that left her alone in the world. He was supportive and comforting, he didn't push anything but simply let her talk and share what she felt she needed to. That was when he stopped being a case; it was when he became a friend.

With the case solved quickly in only a few days, they soon returned to their lives with a feeling of normalcy. However, things had changed between Sara and Neal which made more changes possible.

Their friendship grew and they discovered that they could work together well over following encounters. Then, another case got hotter than the lack of air conditioning when she and Neal were left alone in the dark. That was when she had to admit that she was attracted to him.

Both were uncertain as they tested the waters for a romantic relationship. They were attracted and had similar traits in their work, but she was uncertain if she could trust him and he seemed to have his own reservations.

For a time they dated and there were comfortable qualities like they were made for each other, but perhaps the timing was off as it didn't work. The treasure got in between them and she broke up with him.

Sara was hurt, but something about him kept drawing her back to him. They didn't date anymore, but their paths kept crossing from time to time until she was transferred overseas.

Then she heard about his death.

Stepping away from romance, Sara was certain she was a jinx. Danny no longer contacted her, the first person she got seriously involved with was a criminal, and so was the second, but there was something different about him until his death ended all possibilities. Could she ever have a family of her own?

Was there no Conrad or Connie to be had? Sure, they were imaginary children she had created when Neal had fake proposed to her, but he was the only person she had ever imagined herself settling down with to the point of raising mini-cons. Laughing in sorrow, she wondered what it had been about him that changed her mind so drastically. She'd always been afraid of settling down, of losing, of being left. And then, she had to go and fall in love with a con artist notorious for running.

Receiving a transfer back to New York, she figured she might as well reach out to some of the few friends she had. Coincidently, they all revolved around people Neal had known.

Meeting the Burkes for coffee, Sara enjoyed talking to them and was intrigued to meet baby Neal. He was a mini version of Peter in coloring, and there was something about that mischievous gleam in his eyes that was probably from Elizabeth, but it reminded her so much of big Neal that it hurt.

She was also surprised to see how happy Peter was to sit and talk about their friend. Asking him about it, she wondered how he'd come to terms so well.

"I hadn't, but then we got a gift from beyond the grave." Peter laughed softly. "It turns out Neal's been an undercover agent for years and his death was only faked. Now, Neal is coming back to consult with us as an agent to help smooth relations between our agencies."

Stunned, Sara dropped the sandwich she'd been holding. "Neal, is alive?"

Sobering, Peter realized she didn't know. He explained the wine cork leading him to the container and the reveal of how Neal had faked his death. "I tracked him down and got him on the phone, but it wasn't too hard to convince him to come back. His agency was looking for a way to smooth relations and putting him as a part-time consultant and part-time liaison seemed to make everyone happy."

Her world tilted back into perspective and if felt like things weren't as bleak as they were a few moments before. Love lived! She might never know what happened to Danny, but Neal was alive.

"He'll be in the office on Monday. With the consulting and liaison work, he's mostly retired from his field so we're hoping he'll settle down and stick around this time." Elizabeth added from where she was entertaining the baby.

"Why don't you stop by?" Peter invited Sara to catch up with Neal. She was obviously affected by his death and discovering that he was actually alive after all.

Picking at her sandwich as she pulled it together, Sara was considering the offer. "I think maybe I will." Then she chose to ask. "You said he was an agent?"

"There are clearance details so I can't share even the little bit I know about his files. However, Neal is a Washington task force agent with a stellar history. He's a national hero, and we only saw glimpses of the man he is behind the alias." Peter was proud of his friend and enjoyed the chance to brag a little.

Sharing his pride, Sara knew Neal was someone special. She only hoped he was still interested in her and that someone else wouldn't turn his head.

Their conversation flowed into general work details before they had to break up to go onto the rest of their days. Parting, they promised to get together again sometime.

Waiting for Monday was a bit scary. Sara wondered what Neal was like without his alias persona, she worried if things had changed between them, and she looked forward to seeing him again in eager anticipation.

When the day finally dawned, she carefully picked something she wore often, so it wouldn't look like she'd picked something special, but she also made sure it was just that shade of green he'd always admired on her, so she'd be at her best for seeing him again after so long.

Going through her morning routine she tried not to watch the clock as it seemed to crawl, turn backward, or just plain stand still.

Finally, it was lunchtime so she shifted her things to head for the Bureau. She was to meet Peter and El, but Peter was inviting Neal. Elizabeth had called her with the plan over the weekend. It looked like they were playing matchmakers and were trying to make a pair. Smiling, Sara was okay to let them work their magic.

Walking into the office, she noticed how Neal looked up and noted her passing, but he was on the phone and unable to do anything else. Apparently, being an agent meant he was busy and actually used the same office resources as the rest of the team instead of typically resorting to Mozzie or street contacts.

Heading up to Peter's office, she knocked on the door frame as she stood in the open entry. "I hear we have lunch plans? El called me over the weekend." She reminded Peter as the agent had stared at her blankly for a second.

"Oh, right." He burst into a grin and started to lock his station down for the break.

She made a conversation about the restaurant as he worked and then when he stood up to swing his jacket on; Peter glanced down through the glass windows. "Neal is still finishing up his call I see. We might need to wait a minute or two, is that okay?" The agent was courteous but explained that Neal was indeed joining them.

"Sure, how is he handling the adjustment to being back as himself?" Sara was curious as she glanced down as well to see the man in question wrapping up his call.

Noticing Peter's lack of response, she turned in question wondering why the silence.

"Although Neal still uses Neal with us, it's not his legal name or the only name he's ever gone by legally. There are reasons for him to share if he sees fit, but he never fully shows everything of himself. This is just a closer version." Peter warily explained that there were still secrets, but that Neal was doing what he could with circumstances bigger than himself.

Understanding, Sara smiled wryly. "Neal wouldn't be Neal if he didn't have something up his sleeve or some secret in his past. Sometimes it's hard to believe, but somehow he seems to always make it worth it."

Relaxing, Peter returned her smile. "That he does. Like I said before, I can't share what I know, but I can agree that it's worth it."

"What's worth it?" Neal queried joining their conversation. "I thought we were going to lunch?"

"Now that you've finished your call, we can," Peter stated as he gently directed them out so that he could close the door behind them.

Standing on the landing, Sara found herself feeling slightly awkward. This was an interesting situation for her and she wasn't sure what to say.

"I guess I should start by saying it's good to see you again." Neal broke the ice.

"You have no idea. It wasn't easy hearing you had died." Sara found herself diving right in.

Moving to walk ahead of Peter until there was more room, Neal vaguely explained that it was a part of transitioning the operations he was involved with. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you any warning or contact you after the fact. There were a lot of dangerous opponents in the operations I was working and the ones I was assigned to after my funeral were actually worse in some respects. It was best to keep those close to me at a distance for their safety."

Looking away for a second, Sara felt the heat on her cheek as her heart fluttered. He didn't say he still loved her, but she was still counted as one of those close to him.

"Why did you come back?" She asked to keep the conversation going and to better understand his decisions.

"I started with Peter by sending him the wine with the clue on the cork. It was a challenge, a way to test the waters with my friends here and see whether or not I would be welcomed back in the first place, then Peter chased me down again and this time he proposed the working arrangement." Neal's expression wasn't cheery, he knew this was a serious topic and he was treating it with full respect.

"You're always welcome here." Peter clapped him on the shoulder as they moved into the elevator and headed down through the more public lobby.

Unable to ask the question she wanted the answers to the most, Sara chose to go with a safe one. "Are you living at the loft again? You aren't wearing the rat pack?"

"Yes, June insisted on my return and the suits are hanging in the closet the same as ever. However, I have my own G-man suits and civilian attire now too so I mix it up wearing one style suit or another." Neal smiled as he seemed to recollect June's welcome back before shrugging on the suit. "I'm not personally as concerned with appearance as my Caffrey character, but they did grow on me wearing them."

Reaching up to touch his hair at a crosswalk stop, she noted that it didn't have all of the products characteristic to Neal and it was parted lightly to the side so that he had a more playful and relaxed appearance. "It makes you look more like a beach boy forced to dress for work than the sleek debonair appearance you had before."

Laughing, Peter was amused while Neal pretended to be hurt before he too laughed.

"Is that a bad thing?" Neal asked her with a sideways glance.

Smiling too, she was enjoying their friendly banter even as she missed the closeness their romance had been before their separation. "No, it's not a bad thing, just different."

"There are a lot of things different about me as an agent, but perhaps not as much as you might expect." Neal retained the mystery she had always loved about him, but now there was an additional shadow of danger and a more stable platform of safety. He was an agent, someone settling down to life, but one who had secrets and darkness in his past.

Arriving at the restaurant, they met Elizabeth at the door before being led to their table and taking their seats.

Opening the conversation with general greetings, they passed the initial time with a congenial conversation about what would be good to order.

Then when their orders were being placed, the waiter dropped his pen and the tip marked Peter's arm before it hit the table. While the young man apologized and his pen was retrieved, Sara noticed that Elizabeth showed a corresponding mark on her arm indicating that the two were soul mates. It wasn't a surprise to Sara, but it brought up heartache and curiosity.

When the waiter had left, Peter and El shared glances about the mark and some secret recollection.

Taking the opening, Sara asked before she could stop herself, "How did you learn you were soulmates?"

Reaching out to hold hands, the Burkes took turns sharing the story.

"When I was a kid, I wrote my schedule on my arm so I could keep track of classes and practice. You'd think I would have gotten mixed up due to how random and chaotic my writing was, but then one day someone highlighted an appointment I nearly missed. My coach wouldn't have forgiven me, but even back before she knew me, El had my back." Peter squeezed her hand fondly remembering shared details of their past.

Taking over the story from her perspective, El shared why she'd highlighted her arm for him. "One day I found a whole bunch of things written all over my arm: classes, practice, training, and a meet with his coach. The meeting with the coach was written small in the middle of everything like it was an addition later, after everything else had taken up most of the space. Hoping to help this busy boy out, I highlighted the message to make sure he wouldn't miss it in the midst of all of his other activities. Then a little while later he squished in a thank you for saving him and highlighted it so that I'd see it in the chaos."

"From then on I made sure to write smaller to give room for her, and she highlighted anything she thought I might miss, and wrote her notes to me in pink so that they'd stand out. I took grief from the team for having pink ink on my arm, but they had to admit that they wished their soul mates would be so accommodating of their forgetful minds." Peter didn't show any concern with her means of standing out in his life. He was happy to accept whatever she brought to the table.

"Hot highlighter pink was the most eye-catching color I could think of to stand out in any highlights and all of the black pen marks he had on his arm. We exchanged small details of our lives. Like when his game was coming up, he'd tell me his fears, and I'd write encouraging comments to cheer him on." Elizabeth remembered those times as he learned to open up and share his personal fears with her. "My parents wouldn't let me share anything too detailed, and his wouldn't either, but we found ways to make it personal and learn other things about each other."

Amused, Neal enjoyed the story as much as Sara did based on his relaxed smile, but there was a shadow in his eyes like not everything was right. "How did that play into your meeting? I know it was at the robbery, but how did you learn your baseball player and your cheerleader was the person across the room?" Neal asked out of curiosity.

Taking the lead, Elizabeth shared her view. "Peter was a part of the violent crime team that responded to the scene of the robbery when I worked for the gallery. While he was taking interviews, one of my coworkers was talking animatedly with her hands and accidentally marked him on the arm with her pen. I had been watching, there was something I liked about him, and then I glanced down at my arm to see the corresponding mark. Just like that, I knew I'd seen him, but I hadn't been introduced yet so I didn't want to walk up to him and kiss him. Well, not under the circumstances anyway." Elizabeth's eyes were dancing as she remembered. "While he was focused elsewhere, I wrote a note high enough on my arm that it wouldn't be noticed by his fellow agents, but something that he would find later."

Picking up the tale, Peter shared how he had discovered the note. "That night I noticed that I had the mark on my arm so I took off my main shirt. It was easier to write to her with a larger canvas as our conversations often drew out beyond a small space. We were talking about plans to meet but hadn't finalized details. Getting ready to pick our conversation up, I noticed that she'd already written. Reading, I knew she was somehow involved in the case. She'd seen me first. Feeling a little cheated, I wondered which one she was, but I hoped she was the blue-eyed beauty I had noticed watching me from across the room. I asked, but the minx refused to answer directly, said I had to figure it out for myself." Amused, Peter hadn't minded her game, she'd made him work for her. "When I figured out that she was my soulmate I tailed her looking for a means to ask her out."

"As you know, I caught him and made the sign confirming his suspicion. When the case was closed, he asked me out and we've been together ever since." Elizabeth concluded their story looking into her lover's eyes.

Turning away, Sara noticed that Neal also looked away as their eyes crossed seeking something less painful than the depth of love and adoration in their friends' eyes as they looked at their soulmate.

Returning her attention to their table and wondering, Elizabeth broached an even more painful topic as she turned the topic of conversation onto the single people at the table. "Have either of you met your soulmates?"

It seemed that neither of the single people could answer so Peter directed the conversation to Neal in interest. "I thought you always acted like she was Kate?"

Shaking his head, Neal corrected the false assumption. "Agent Moreau was a relationship, and one that got close to me, but she wasn't my soul mate. I've never met my soul mate, at least not knowingly anyway." His voice was professional like he was trying to hold the pain at bay.

Carefully broaching what could be agonizing, Peter asked why not.

"An incomplete sentence," it seemed like an incomplete answer, but everyone knew that it was often an indicator of something traumatic, if not fatal. Soulmates never stopped writing unless they were either dead, in a coma, or unable to write for some other traumatic reason.

The entire table fell silent while pitying the man with them.

In an effort to distract from the sad topic, Elizabeth asked Sara about her soul mate.

Unable to raise her voice, Sara knew she was only going to depress the atmosphere even worse. "No, he stopped years ago." It was another way of saying he was likely dead without uttering those tragic words.

Clearing his throat, Peter seemed at a loss of how to approach the situation without causing tears, and he always tried to avoid making women cry.

Taking a hand from each of her friends, Elizabeth approached with the needed soft touch. "I'm sorry for both of you. Although I've feared it, I couldn't imagine going through that. Did you grieve?"

Shaking her head, Sara just caught Neal doing the same out of the corner of her eye.

"You should. Who knows, it could help you. I've heard stories where people thought dead had come out of comas and were able to reassure their grieving mates of their continued existence leading to happy stories." Elizabeth added a potential means of them still gaining a happily ever after.

Realizing that he might believe her dead and be unable to face it, Sara decided that she ought to do it. If for nothing else, she needed the closure where Danny was concerned.

Changing the topic as their meals arrived; Elizabeth didn't try to cheer them up and instead made it easy for them to remain silent in contemplation while she carried the general conversation with her husband.

Through the meal, Sara occasionally noticed Neal glancing her way, and how Peter and El seemed to be checking on them after bringing up something so painful in their pasts. Then when they finished eating, Peter asked if they were alright.

Noticing that they were all three watching her in concern, Sara tried to smile and show strength. "We never really talked as I wasn't allowed too. Unfortunately, I don't know what I'm missing to miss more than the idea of him."

"It doesn't take a conversation to get to know someone. Sometimes, there are other ways of expression." Neal said the expected artist answer. He probably used art to show himself to his soulmate.

Trying to thank them in her expression, Sara was the first to leave the group and head back to her office. As the first one to leave, she was the first one required back.

On her way, she ran her fingers over her wrist wondering when she should do it. The tradition for grieving was to put a teardrop on your wrist. It was a marker that your soul mate wasn't writing on your arm anymore that could be seen by others in the right circumstances while also being personal as it could be hidden.

Reaching her office, Sara went about her work and tried to forget about their lunch discussion. Then later, she had signed her signature on a document when she zoned out of focus on what she was doing. Refocusing, she realized that she had her hand turned to expose her wrist while the pen tip was resting against her skin.

He had stopped painting years ago. She was in love with Neal. It was time.

Drawing the teardrop, she made it big enough he could paint it if he was alive, but small enough to hide under a watch band. That way, if he didn't respond, she could excuse it that he hadn't seen her mark.

Trying to go about her day, she found herself checking from time to time, but nothing ever happened. It was still just her pen mark.

By the time she reached home, she felt emotionally exhausted so she changed into comfortable clothes and decided to take a nap.

Lying there on her bed, she stared up at the white ceiling remembering the artistic renditions that used to cover her arms, trying to remember the intricacies and details that Danny put into his work.

The next thing she knew, it was morning and time to begin her day again.

Getting ready for work, she was going to shower when she noticed that the teardrop had been filled in. It was painted to look like a real teardrop. There was light, shadow, and the essence of water showing that her artist was alive after all!

Too excited, she rushed through the rest of her routine with little concern before sitting down with a pen.

Shaking in excitement, she felt much like she had that first day so long ago when she first saw his writings. Deciding not to think about it, she wrote the first question that came to mind. "Why did you stop?"

Nothing happened.

As the time indicated she should be going to work, she put on a jacket and went in to try and get through her day. It was difficult, but she managed to avoid making her distraction too obvious until she could get back home and see if he'd responded throughout the course of the day.

Removing her jacket as soon as she was through the door, she was thrilled to see a response waiting for her. Turning her arm to see, she saw that he had not only answered, but carried on the conversation.

"Me? I got a job that didn't allow such markings. Why did you stop, Sar?" He'd written to point out her failure to write him back from the beginning as well as his memory of what she'd written.

"Sara, I'm Sara. My mother pulled the pen from my hand and forbade me writing back." The memories made her hands shake, but she knew he deserved to know why she'd abandoned him. "She and my father died just before I would have been allowed to write to you. By the time I was getting back on my feet, you'd stopped, and I was too afraid to ask why."

When she stopped writing, she saw the writing starting back on her arm. "My condolences for your losses. I wish I'd known and could try to help you through that."

"Your pictures helped. I had something to look forward to each day even as I felt like curling up and crying, I could watch the beautiful images of your paintings."

Then she cried softly as she watched the colors start at her wrist and build up her arm. Oh, how she'd missed this!

Falling into a pattern, they spent each evening talking before he'd paint something up her arm washing away whatever they'd discussed with imagery of what it created in his mind.

Then, one night, he asked her where she was.

"NYC" she knew he'd understand the location as it was world-famous.

"Me too! What is your favorite coffee shop?" Danny was in New York?

Naming her favorite place, she decided to ask him if he wanted to meet her there.

"Tomorrow?" He arranged a time that he could meet her there and asked how he'd know who she was.

Thinking, she decided she could wear her green dress to give him the best first look for a workday.

He promised to wear a hat. Something most didn't do anymore.

Except for Neal, he wears hats. She said to herself before deciding she could look for someone other than Neal and that would be her soul mate.

With their arrangement planned, they moved onto Danny's art as he painted up her arms detailing coffee themes.

Amused, she was glad he was looking forward to meeting her, but it made her night sleep difficult wondering who he was and what he looked like.

Dressing in the morning, she got ready and headed to grab her morning coffee.

Nervously entering the shop, she looked about for a man with a hat, but there wasn't one in sight. All heads were bare.

Getting her coffee and taking a seat near the window with a good view of the shop, she figured she would either see him coming or when he arrived so she could observe him as he looked for her.

Sipping her coffee, she saw a familiar hat enter the shop and move to place his order. Then, as he was moving to leave, Caffrey noticed her and joined her at the table.

"Hello, Sara. What are you doing here? You look like your waiting for someone." He sipped his coffee and broached conversation.

"I am, but he appears to be late." She was growing more nervous as the time past for when Danny was supposed to arrive.

"Are you sure he's late? Maybe your client got distracted?" Neal seemed to be teasing her.

"He's not a client," Sara cast her eyes to the side away from Neal. How did she tell the man she was in love with that she was meeting her soulmate? For that matter, what if her soulmate saw her with the man she was in love with? There wasn't a social norm for this.

"Ah, a little more personal than that?" Neal's voice sounded happy like he was glad for her.

Feeling even more miserable, Sara wished he would go away as much as she wished he would stay.

"Hey, are you okay?" Neal's voice dropped to a softer tone and showed some concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She tried to pull herself together while holding her coffee cup tighter. Looking up, she raised her eyes just high enough to see the concern in his eyes before she looked away unable to handle the emotional turmoil it caused.

Reaching out to tap her hand with his finger, Neal showed a familiarity. "Are you sure?"

Looking around as she nodded, she was glad to see that no one else had shown up wearing a hat while Neal's sat to the side of the table by her purse.

Pulling his hand back, Neal seemed to sense her discomfort. "You weren't expecting me. I should head for the office; I'm surprised Peter hasn't called me to see where I am yet."

She started at the table between them while saw him reach for his hat and heard as he accidentally knocked her purse off of the table. While he ducked to retrieve the contents, she trusted him not to steal anything and took the moment to take a sip of her drink hoping it would give her some composure.

Standing her purse back on the table in a more secure spot, Neal stood up and flipped his hat onto his head in one of his most flamboyant tricks before smiling brilliantly and telling her he'd see her later.

Wondering what that was about, Sara couldn't shake the fear that her soulmate had seen her with Neal and not shown up for fear she wasn't his soul mate or that she had someone else in her life… which she sort of did.

Checking her watch, she realized it was time to go to work. Danny had stood her up!

Progressing through her day, Sara tried to zone out into her work. She didn't want to think about why Danny hadn't shown up or what could have crossed his mind if he had shown up while Neal was there.

At the end of the day, she closed down her office and went home hoping for dinner and bed. If she could help it, she wasn't going to even look at her arm. He'd stood her up, she wasn't going to write to him.

However, her plans reached a staggering halt when she reached her door and reached into her purse to pull her keys out, but they weren't there. Confused, she dug through her purse until she ended up dumping the contents out on her stoop. The keys weren't in her purse. Had she lost them?

Deciding to make use of her lock picking set, she started to poke through the content from her purse looking for them too only to find them missing as well.

What happened to her things?

Growing frustrated, she checked the easiest ways to break into her home, but they weren't working.

Giving up in angry defeat, she sat on her stoop with her mess of things and pulled out her phone. Texting Neal, she figured if you needed to break in you should call a thief.

He responded after a while saying he was occupied but would be along as soon as possible.

With nothing else to do, Sara found her fingers crawling towards the pen unbidden and before she realized what she was writing, "why?" had been scrawled on her arm. She was frustrated, tired, and hurt. Her entire day had been a battle of emotional struggle and she didn't have the energy left to fight herself.

"Why what?" The words were just what it took to spark her temper.

Trying not to hurt herself with the force of her writing, she was also angry enough to tolerate some pressure. "Why didn't you come, I waited until I had to leave for work, and you never showed?" The tears were pooling in the corner of her eyes as the hurt took dominance. "You never showed…"

"Yes, I did." His answer floored her.

"You did? I didn't see you?" She floundered trying to figure out which one he was when he was there, and if she'd seen him. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I took off my hat." There was a pen sketch that started to show on her arm in basic detail of her features before he answered the rest of her questions. "We talked, Sara Ellis."

"But…" She just couldn't place anyone that had talked to her other than the staff who took her order and made the coffee, and Neal.

"Danny isn't my real name, something I learned when I turned eighteen. I have three names. My birth name, my Wit-sec name Daniel Brooks, and my legal name." He spent a few moments writing the information down across her arm.

Confused, she was trying to figure out where he was going when Neal opened her door. "I believe you asked me to break into your place?"

Relieved to have access to her home, she was distracted enough to forget about the mystery of Danny for a few moments. Picking up her things, she went to put them away only to find her keys and lock pick set waiting for her. Neal, he'd stolen her things! "You know, I could have Peter arrest you for theft and breaking and entering." She called out to him as she turned around to find him standing next to a nice candlelit dinner, much like the date Peter had commandeered.

"You could, but I don't think you will." Neal shifted to pull a seat out for her. He was still wearing the suit he'd been wearing that morning, but he was down to the long sleeve shirt loosely buttoned and un-tucked while the rest of his suit laid neatly over a chair to the side out of the way.

Something seemed to be so right about him preparing dinner for her, and yet, she was also missing something. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him, really looked at him. His hair was looser like he'd been wearing it since he'd come back, he was wearing the nicest suit from Byron's collection, his cologne went nicely with his body chemistry making him attractive across the board. He was dressed to look his best while retaining his more relaxed attitude in his hair. Then looking at his face, he was cleanly shaven like he had stopped home after work to shave and grab his gear to prepare this dinner. And his eyes, they were more relaxed than she had ever seen them before, not even when they were dating. "What's different about you tonight?"

Gesturing her to the seat, Neal didn't answer.

Moving forwards and trusting him to answer in his own time, Sara took the seat and sat down. While he went about serving the food, she asked various things about his day and tried to figure out what he was up to and why he chose this evening to set up a romantic dinner.

Keeping up a congenial conversation, Neal still danced around some of her inquiries as he wasn't ready to answer yet.

Then, when he left to get the desert, he came back without his long sleeve shirt and with a towel over his arm as he put her food in front of her, but remained beside her. "Would you care to remove the towel?"

Realizing that this was his answer, Sara looked him in the eyes as she reached up and laid her hand on his arm without removing the towel. Her eyes asked the question of what he was trying to say, but yet she also seemed to know that she needed to find the answer for herself.

Moving the towel while she continued to look him in the eyes, she didn't look down until the towel had fallen into her lap.

His arm was covered in the same writing as her own. Neal's soulmate had written an incomplete sentence, Danny was his Wit-sec name, he had shown up that morning wearing a hat… he was her soul mate!

Starting to cry, Sara felt the emotional release of stressing about why her soul mate stopped painting, whether Neal had intended to contact her after he returned to New York, about loving two men. Then as she felt strong arms wrap around her and lift her from the chair, she soon found herself standing as she cried into his shoulder while he held her close.

Listening to his soft words, she learned that he had joined the CIA and stopped painting to keep any enemies away from her, but he'd kept an eye out for Sars in his life wondering if he might encounter her anyway. Then he'd gotten to know her and there was something special, but she broke up with him and eventually moved overseas. Was she the Sar for him, or was she another he hoped to match with only to fail? Finally, his curiosity was peaked when she said her name was Sara, and again when he saw her at the coffee shop. After their conversation, he knew, so he couldn't help but steal her keys and lock picks to ensure he had the means of setting up a special surprise for her.

Unable to resist, Sara shifted from crying into his shoulder to seeking his face. Pushing back slightly, she got the gap she needed to see him through her tears. She thought his eyes were shiny as he used his thumb to gently clear some of her tears away. Leaning into his hand, she relished the comfort of his touch before looking back to his face. Losing any remaining resistance, she closed the gap again to kiss him and to feel him reciprocate.

As they separated to breathe, Sara leaned her forehead against his chin as he kissed her hair and held his hand to the back of her head, a remnant from their kiss a moment before. She was grateful for his stronghold as she felt weak for the release of stress and emotions.

Sighing, she felt contentment she'd never felt before. He was alive, Neal was her Danny Boy, and they were together. Chuckling, a past conversation crossed her mind.

"What?" Neal asked while pulling back to lift her chin up with his finger to see her eyes.

Beginning to smile, Sara watched his answering smile and curious expression. "Maybe we should look into West Chester's real-estate."

"And schools for little Connie and Conrad?" He softly spoke with a chuckle. Neal also remembered their conversation after their fake engagement.

"It's probably a good idea to keep that in mind." Her imagination could picture it, the real engagement, a wedding with their friends, some kind of world adventure honeymoon, and then life. Living with her soulmate and having a family of their own.

"I should probably get that proposal arranged, hadn't I?" Neal smiled as he leaned closer to her.

"Mmhmm." She answered as she leaned into another kiss.


	2. Lies Leave Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark.

*******

Something was off, different. Peter could sense it as he went through his morning trip to work. However, it wasn't until he reached the familiar atmosphere of the Federal Building that he realized what was wrong.

Everyone had scars. Some were small like paper cuts while others were larger and appeared to run deep.

Pausing while he waited for an elevator, Peter observed the passing personnel to see if he could understand the cause of the scars.

Hearing a phone conversation as another agent walked by, Peter began to understand.

Everyone knew that Bill had two girlfriends he tried to keep separate and it was a frowned upon behavior, but not illegal so no official action had been taken. As he walked by he was avoiding a date with one girlfriend by giving the excuse of an alleged stakeout. Considering how vocally he'd been bragging about tickets to a show, it was likely he intended to take the other girlfriend and was carefully giving this one the brush off. This was a common enough occurrence that Peter knew he was lying. The difference was that a large gaping wound reopened on Bill's exposed arm as he stated the lie.

Knowing in his gut that he had figured it out, Peter connected the scars and open wound to the past utterance or repetition of lies.

Interestingly, when did that become normal and why wasn't he more worried about it? He vaguely wondered

As an elevator arrived, Peter walked into the car with the other waiting agents and requested his floor.

Using the reflective door as a mirror, Peter visually traced his own features looking for scars. His face was fairly clean, just a scar he was certain came from a childhood accident. It was faint and barely noticeable. Further examination showed some minor scarring on his neck and especially his hands. He lied in undercover work so that probably accounted for them.

Exiting the car on his floor, he made his way up to his office noting the number of scars he saw on his team. Oddly, Diana had more than Jones, but even combined they didn't match Neal. The con had evidently lied a lot in his criminal career.

Starting up his computer, Peter settled into the comfort zone of normalcy and went to work.

Soon enough, he was called to join the team for the morning meeting.

Taking a seat next to Neal, he asked if Neal had done anything interesting with his evening.

"Oh, the usual, you know. We, criminals, are always planning and plotting heists." There was an edge to his voice, but it was the wound opening on Neal's arm that caught Peter's attention.

Grabbing his wrist before Neal could hide it, Peter noted how deep and spread out the wound was. Did Neal lie about his activities, and if so, why? Asking again, Peter hoped for a means of discerning Neal's lie.

Sighing, Neal answered more truthfully. "As I said, the usual. Mozzie was over so he opted to pass the time with strategizing heist possibilities." At Peter's frown, he continued. "It helps to keep the mind limber without serious intent." Then he pulled his arm away and pulled bandages out of his jacket to keep the blood from making a mess.

Realizing that Neal gave no sign of having lied the second time, Peter allowed him his retreat while he thought. Not everyone was present yet and Hughes headed the table preparing to lead the meeting so he had some time.

Neal's original statement indicated that he had occupied himself in the usual fashion by plotting heists, and then he admitted to doing just that honestly. What was the difference?

Suddenly, it dawned on Peter. Neal had referred to himself as a criminal when he lied but not when he told the truth. How was that a lie? Unable to answer the question, Peter decided to review his information about Neal when he returned to his office.

When the meeting started, Hughes went through the routine much as he used to and Peter typically did having picked up that mantle. Progressing through the meeting, Peter observed the team and noted when one agent lied about their paperwork, what happened when he himself lied about being attentive, and how Neal lied more times than Peter could count.

When Peter lied, he felt the sting of a minor opening pulling in his finger and looked to find a new paper cut. He knew the intent of the question had been about his attention to the meeting, and although he was paying a lot of attention, it wasn't entirely to the meeting.

"Uh-huh," Neal had muttered in commentary beside him. He'd obviously noted Peter's check and the new cut.

When the meeting broke up, Neal dodged off to avoid conversation while Hughes approached Peter in concern.

"Are you alright? It's not like you to not pay attention in a meeting, that's what I expect from Neal." A minor cut opened on Hughes' hand causing him to shift the papers he was holding. He didn't expect Neal to misbehavior, he expected him to behave or else.

"That's what's bothering me," Peter noted but didn't point out the lie directly. "Neal usually behaves how we expect him to. However, he lied earlier when he said he was a criminal, and that doesn't make sense." He flinched as a slightly larger cut opened on the back of his hand, but he wasn't even sure what the lie was so he let it pass for the moment.

"Go with your gut, Peter," Hughes advised before returning to his work.

Feeling like he was missing something, Peter analyzed the little he'd collected. Hughes said Neal was expected to be inattentive, but he usually knew what was going on around him, he just didn't act like he was attentive. And how was a convicted felon not a criminal? The anklet he was wearing and his prison sentence weren't jokes done for a laugh. Peter had spent three years chasing Neal in order to prove his guilt and then catch him. Neal was a criminal… wasn't he?

Retreating to his office, Peter reviewed Neal's file. Everything was as he remembered. There was evidence, particularly Neal's fingerprints, and the bank security recording, that tied him to the bonds, but there was merely speculation on the rest. Neal was suspected of a whole list of additional crimes because he was seen in the vicinity around the time they were committed while they fit his skills set and MO, but there wasn't evidence proving his involvement in any of them. Perhaps Neal used plausible guilt and rumors to build his reputation more than once? It would explain why he couldn't be proven guilty in at least some of those other cases, but all of them? And that didn't explain away his obvious guilt in the bond forgeries. Was it this strange environment where lies had physical effects that made him question Neal's guilt, or was there really something Peter was missing?

Seeing the time, he opted to ask Neal along for lunch. Maybe he could garner some additional information, or at least confirm what he thought he knew?

Neal didn't seem inclined based on his pause, but without a valid excuse, he chose to accept the offer and slowly got his things together.

Taking a stroll, Peter took Neal to a favorite coffee shop nearby. Taking the time to walk expanded the opportunities for them to talk while allowing Peter to put his focus on Neal to discern what was truthful and what wasn't. He wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to question his friend when he could physically discern when he lied or not.

Reaching the street, Peter chose to start with the basics of his general inquisition. "You've never confirmed it, and I'm curious, is Neal your real name?" The kid seemed to like a semblance of authenticity even in his deceptions.

"Yes." Neal didn't elaborate but treated it as the lie detector test it was.

"How about Caffrey?" Peter pushed.

"No." Neal walked along with his eyes forward towards where they were going, but there wasn't any visible mark that he was lying, not any tears in his flesh, no twitch of his eyes, nothing to indicate a reaction of any kind.

"Really?" Peter wondered. He'd been so sure Neal Caffrey was his real name, but it made sense that he changed his name, because the name never pulled anything from his life pre-eighteen regardless of what database he ran it through.

"No, Caffrey is not on my birth certificate. However, it's as close as you're going to get," Neal elaborated slightly when pushed. "I'm not comfortable going any closer, but don't push that, I can't tell you anything more there."

Honoring Neal's privacy, Peter noted his answer. He wasn't as surprised to learn it as he expected. Perhaps, he'd already suspected as much? However, what made him uncomfortable and why couldn't Neal tell him more about why he chose that name? Attempting to ask a few other questions about Neal's childhood and history, he didn't get much information out of the younger man as he evaded him and made sure he answered honestly without actually answering at all.

Giving up that line of inquiry, Peter moved on to his criminal history. Starting with the known, he asked Neal if he'd forged the bonds he was convicted of.

"Yes." Neal returned to his simple and honest answer approach. They were only about halfway to the shop weaving through pedestrians and pausing for traffic at each intersection.

Curious, Peter approached the next question vaguely with the expectation of a vague answer. "How about the other crimes you're suspected of?"

"That depends, which one has you the most interested today?" Neal was as vague and evasive as expected.

Going through the primary list of cases Neal was suspected of, Peter noted that Neal was perfectly happy to share alleged stories regaling him with information that fit the records. However, since no one had ever looked further to realize how much Neal's stories were within the records and lacking certain information on further details, no one had ever noticed what hit Peter in their conversation. Neal hadn't committed a single one of them. He'd been nearby and was therefore aware of what had likely transpired, and maybe he had means of accessing the official records, but how close he'd been to the activities was something Neal didn't divulge.

Perplexed, Peter didn't understand. Maybe Neal wasn't the criminal they thought he was?

Taking yet a different approach, Peter tried to figure out what kind of crimes Neal had committed by asking into his past activities. "Forging?"

"Yes." He'd admitted to the bonds after all so Neal's answer was expected.

"Conning?" Likely, he was a conman after all, but if he wasn't the criminal they thought he was, it didn't hurt to check the foundation criminal abilities.

"Obviously." Neal seemed to be torn between giving him a playful look or being insulted that Peter had asked him along for lunch simply to interrogate him on such topics yet again.

Continuing through the skill sets associated with Neal, Peter believed this approach was more productive and took it as Neal confessing to having committed crimes using his skills, but not the ones they expected based on their investigations.

Being tired of spinning back and forth in confusion, Peter blurted out his frustration. "Why did you state earlier that you're not a criminal when you obviously are? You just admitted it through several crimes and you didn't have marks appear to indicate you're lying?"

Stopping in his tracks nearly at the door of the coffee shop, Neal turned on him. "That's because I'm nothing more than a criminal to you. You don't see me as anything else so you can't possibly fathom what's going on, even when you can read my lies in a physical reaction. I could tell you the truth with no marks and you wouldn't believe it." He was frustrated, hurt, and yet also tired.

"Try me?" Peter challenged him. He wanted to know the truth, he was trying to figure this all out, but he kept running into things that didn't make sense.

"What's the point? Even if I could tell you, you wouldn't believe it." Neal turned with the intent of walking back to the office alone.

Catching his arm, Peter stopped him and held him in place. "You say that I don't see you as anything more than a criminal, but that isn't true. You're more than a criminal to us." Peter said only to feel a pain spreading through his arm and growing in agony as he contradicted the statement's simple description of Neal.

"Evidence would indicate otherwise." Neal pointed to the gaping wound on his arm that was soaking blood into his shirt sleeve.

When Peter stared at the injury in blank surprise, Neal sighed and stepped forward to direct him aside, nearer the building and out of the foot traffic. Then he silently proceeded to tend the injury to help it heal.

While Neal automatically treated the wound, Peter stared at the injury and observed Neal's actions. The injury had a scarred edged, so he'd said this lie before, and Neal wasn't surprised so they'd done this more than once.

"I'm not lying," Peter muttered as another injury opened on his other arm for Neal to tend.

Neal looked up at him with an almost pitying expression, like he believed Peter was deluding himself, but he continued in his careful administrations without a word.

Peter truly meant it though; Neal was more than a criminal. The man was lighthearted and somehow lit up the room with his cheerful demeanor, even now he was taking care of Peter's wound despite the cause being painful to himself, and he was a reliable part of the team who had their backs when it counted. "You don't act like most criminals, there's something more to you that makes you different."

"But I'm still a criminal. I can be a con or a man, not both, and I'm a con which means I'm a criminal. If there is doubt in my innocence, you generally jump to the conclusion that I'm guilty. It doesn't surprise you in the slightest that I'm covered in the scars of lies, but you can't figure out my lies as they don't fit your criminal view of me. Sure, you think I could be more, that I show signs of learning to be more, you see things that make me different from your experience with other criminals, but I'm still just a criminal. You don't think you're lying, but saying I'm not just a criminal when I am is a lie." Neal said as he finished.

Then he wordlessly led the way into the coffee shop and placed the order for their meals before silently assisting Peter with carrying the load to a table.

Absolutely confused, Peter really didn't understand. "But, if you're not a criminal and that's the truth, then how is you being a criminal the truth?"

"Lies can be complex things. They can be about facts, about feelings, about beliefs, anything that is not the truth is a lie, even if the truth is mixed in, the lie still taints absolutely. Just because we're talking about the same subject doesn't mean we're approaching it the same way. You're talking about your feelings, and although you think I might be something more in addition to being a criminal, I'm still just a criminal in your eyes so saying otherwise is lying." Neal paused in his meal preparations to explain.

"Then what is your approach?" Peter asked. If he was approaching Neal's criminal status with feeling and lying, then how was Neal approaching it and telling the truth? Was he approaching it with feeling too, that he didn't see himself as a criminal so calling himself one was a lie? But, he had admitted to having done several criminal actions, including forging the bonds, so did that make him delusional? But, that still didn't make sense though, as Neal was too well-grounded and fully aware of his criminal actions. "Would I believe that if you told me?"

"No, you wouldn't." Neal seemed to be part hurt by the continued poking and prodding, but he also seemed to accept it as a normal part of their relationship. Peter was known as the archeologist after all.

"You can't tell me what it is though?" Peter tested the waters, trying to see if he could get something more of a feeling for what Neal was hiding.

"It's not that I'm physically incapable of telling you, but more like it's highly advised against for a variety of reasons." It wasn't a lie as he seemed to be calmly picking through his sandwich without showing any physical tells or tears.

There were only so many reasons why a person couldn't tell something. Eliminating or confirming a big one, Peter asked, "Do any of those reasons have to do with criminal activity of your own doing?"

Looking up slightly, Neal seemed to be resigned to the repeat performance. "No."

The kid was willing to brag about his alleged activities so Peter believed the answer. Neal was known to do things for the safety of others, so could that be a motivation? "Is it for your safety or that of others?"

Peter scored when Neal twitched so he tried to narrow it down with a remote possibility that would explain the absence of information available about Neal's childhood. "Does that have anything to do with Wit-sec?"

This got a more prominent reaction as Neal twitched and gasped with surprise. That was personal and another hit.

"Really?" But then, back in one of their early cases, Neal had had an aversion to their witness being placed in the program. Maybe, for some reason, he had an aversion to the system. It would explain why he was so good at being someone other than his real name, why he would want to have something real, but would also distance himself from most of his history pre-eighteen.

"I think we should return to the office. Your imagination is running a bit too wild." Neal tried to distract him before dodging off to discard their wastes and wait for him by the door.

Getting up, Peter followed Neal and realized that the more remote the possibility, the more of a reaction it got from Neal, and the more the younger man tried to evade answering. Neal had said he wouldn't believe it even if Neal had told him point-blank with no markers for lying. What was the least believable thing he could think of to explain why Neal couldn't defend himself and why he would be a criminal without actually being a criminal? Then it dawned on him. If he had access to official records in order to play off of his alleged guilt, he was always alert to what transpired around him and showed abilities beyond other criminals, and he came from Wit-sec indicating a long history with law enforcement and danger. "Are you an agent on some kind of special assignment?"

Plastering on an obvious con man's façade, Neal tried to hide whatever his reaction was behind the mask. "Seriously? You're asking if I'm an agent?" Then he moved to feel Peter's forehead for a temperature. "You've been acting strange all day, are you getting sick?"

Slapping his hand away, Peter suddenly realized that Neal was trying to hide the truth of the matter. In a barrage of images, Peter saw Neal in a new light. He wasn't guilty of the laundry list of crimes they'd suspected him of, only allowed the suspicion to buffer his reputation which was probably founded off of the bonds to give substance to those rumors. The man didn't behave like a normal con, he treated them differently as he ran, he was like a fellow competitor conceding to his loss when they arrested him, and he entered the office like someone familiar with government work and yet not used to their approach. Could Neal really be an undercover agent?

The question was bizarre enough that it had Peter's mind working overtime until he found himself sitting awake on the edge of his bed.

Rubbing the heel of his palms into his eyes, Peter yawned and tried to make sense of his muddled thoughts remnant from the dream. Deciding that he needed to think, he carefully slipped away from the bed and out of the room without disturbing his sleeping wife.

Walking down the hall, he took a detour and grabbed his Neal box before he moved down to spread the contents over the dining room table. This was his normal routine for trying to find an answer whenever Neal puzzled him, and after that dream combined with their conversation in the office, he was confused.

Just like in his dream, Peter had been in the conference room with Neal waiting for a meeting to start. Neal had commented on his activities with Mozzie from the night before, and he'd shown displeasure before Neal defended himself explaining how it was just a mental exercise.

"As long as it remains just a mental exercise," Peter had commented before intending to let the subject slide. He knew to pick his battles and Neal's exercise didn't seem to be an issue at present.

"Because I'm just a criminal, so of course the mental exercise would lead to too much temptation to put it to active use." Neal had remarked in an irritated sigh.

"No, but you have a criminal history so the temptation is a natural part of the change." Peter had defended himself while wondering where Neal got that understanding of his opinion from. That curiosity had sparked an investigation then too and he'd spent the rest of the day rehashing their history and analyzing the con man.

"Neal, again?" He heard El as she came up behind him to rest her arms on his shoulder while she looked past him to his occupation.

"Yeah, we had a discussion yesterday at work where he stated that he's just a criminal to me so I tried to find where that came from. Then I had this strange dream, where when anyone told a lie a physical mark would split open like a wound with the size and depth of the wound varying with the size of the lie. Through the dream, I observed Neal and tried to figure out why his lies and my perspective weren't working. In the end, just before I woke up, I dreamed that I asked him if he was an undercover agent on special assignment and he reacted so outrageously, that it seemed to be fact." Peter was still flabbergasted. Much like his dream counterpart, he was looking at the same story about Neal and still wondering why something felt off.

"Why don't you ask him point-blank tomorrow if he's an undercover agent on special assignment and then see how he reacts?" El just kind of shrugged like it was an obvious solution.

Amused, Peter turned to kiss her. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Kissing him despite his light mocking, she patted him on the shoulder. "Trust your gut instinct. Sometimes dreams take the things that we see but don't grasp when we're awake and coalesce them into a more keen perspective of the truth. Neal's always been different to you, so maybe his comment was him being tired of the charade? Then you analyzed him yesterday trying to figure out where it came from and pulled the pieces to the forefront of your mind, and then your dream put the story together for you."

Unable to believe it, but still hearing the echo through his mind where Neal told him he would never believe the truth even if he'd told it to him in that strange world, he decided to give it a shot. "You know, you might be on to something." At least he might be able to put these questions to rest.

Taking his hand as he yawned, El pulled lightly before indicating that he should be joining her in getting off to bed.

Getting up and looking at the papers, he decided he could pick them up in the morning when he was more rested. Turning to follow her lead, he moved to walk beside her and commented as he turned the lights out behind them. "Who knows, if my dream was right, Neal might turn out to have a Wit-sec past too."

"Oh, really?" El asked sleepily before her own yawn prevented further comment.

Yawning again, Peter answered when he could speak again. "Or something like that, he reacted to me asking if he wasn't telling me his secrets for his own safety, like Wit-sec, and he refused to answer anything. Maybe my mind was just trying to provide a reason for why I've never been able to find anything about him pre-eighteen. The Marshals blocking me would be a solid explanation."

"Ask him about that too. It's time to sleep now though, Neal can wait until morning." El was too tired to talk for long.

Feeling the same, Peter was glad he had a wife who could find the means of turning his mind off and getting the rest he needed.

*******

The next morning, he wondered if he really should approach Neal with the questions running through his mind, but then he also knew that if he was wrong he could always blow it off as a weird dream he'd decided to test on Neal for the sheer sake of seeing how he'd react in reality.

Moving through his morning routine, Peter rehashed the insights and his reasoning for pursuing them. Many of them had valid points he'd never contemplated before. They'd never seen Neal forge the bonds, the evidence was just his fingerprint on them and the bank's security recording of him cashing in. The kid was smart enough and completely capable, but did he actually forge them? Neal didn't tell them anything about his alleged heist he was suspected in beyond the official records and speculation based on the crime committed, nothing extra like details only the perpetrator would know and never a confession, just an alleged tale. He didn't talk about his past or family or anything that could be used to trace back to details about them. No database pulled up any records about him pre-eighteen, there weren't hits on his name, description, or pictures which was strange considering how public and integrated they were. In Quantico, they'd pulled Peter's file for an example and all kinds of things had popped up about him. Fortunately, there wasn't anything embarrassing, but now that he'd thought of it, it was blatantly obvious the difference between his files and Neal's. Those observations didn't even cover Neal's unexpected behaviors. There was something about how he was able to pop in and out of their radar during their chase, he never seemed to be too worried about them and was instead playful, when they met him in person he was oddly congenial, and finally, he fit into the office too easily compared to any criminal Peter had ever seen or heard of working with law enforcement. Maybe, just maybe, his dream had something to it?

Continuing to contemplate the pros and cons, Peter was rather quiet when he entered the office and made his way up to his space. This time, when he walked through the team, they were normal. No scars, no gaping wounds. Things were normal, and yet they weren't.

Something about the dream seemed to have heightened his attention while changing his perceptions. Bill playing his games with his girlfriends brought a mental image of a gaping wound opening up on his arm, the faces of his team brought up the memories of scars tracing various parts of their features, and the agent on the team stating they were nearly done with their late reports made him roll his eyes to himself as he knew she wasn't nearly so close as she wanted them to believe. Once again, he wasn't attentive to the meeting and instead focused on observations and thoughts.

When the morning meeting ended, it was Neal who remained to ask Peter if he was alright while Jones, Diana, and Hughes remained nearby in concern.

Sighing as he looked Neal straight in the eyes, Peter answered. "I had this really weird dream last night. When people lied, they got wounds opening on their flesh as physical marks of their deception. You were a focus of it, based on your remark yesterday where you said I see you as nothing but a criminal. You were wrong then and in my dream. I'm aware of your criminal history, I caught you after all. But, I'm also aware that we haven't been able to prove you were guilty of anything beyond the bond forgery and you've used our suspicion and general rumors to inflate your reputation before. In addition, there are also huge mysteries like your past pre-eighteen and what you were really doing through all of those alleged heists and years on the run. In my dream, I came up with some odd explanations."

Looking somewhere between curious, and slightly concerned, Neal decided to bite the bullet. "What are your explanations?"

Keeping a serious expression, Peter followed El's suggestion and asked him point-blank. "You wouldn't happen to have grown up in Wit-sec, go into government work, and now be an agent on a special assignment? It would explain why your childhood is a complete blank, the Marshalls would block us out if they had enough reason to warrant it and it would also be a reason for why you know so much about how they function. As for being an agent, we use rumors generated by operations to give our characters reputations in the criminal world solid and believable enough to fool nearly any criminal. You've never acted like any other criminal I've ever met or heard of, and you've adjusted abnormally well to working in an office full of agents."

There was a glimmer of shock followed by panic and then they were masked by a façade as Neal pretended it was just a joke. Plastering a big smile on his face and laughing, he asked "Does this mean I get a badge?"

"No," Hughes answered that one gruffly.

"Too bad," Neal tried to end the joke awkwardly and then made his escape retreating down towards his desk.

Turning to Peter while he moved to observe Neal's retreat, the other's asked where that analysis came from.

Holding up his hands to forestall their comments, Peter pointed out his reasoning again in summary. "I thought it was just a weird dream too. But did you see that shock and panic on his face before he covered it with that big smiling mask?"

Pausing, the others stopped to give his words consideration while Peter moved to retain a view of Neal.

"He also just blew past his desk pulling his phone out and is disappearing into the back hallways," Peter stated before pulling the door open and pursuing. If Neal really was an agent or something, he wanted to know.

Hurrying through the office and out into the back hallways to try and catch up, Peter went the opposite way than most members of the team went for a private conversation. It figured that Neal would seek privacy in an unexpected place. Getting closer as he walked past doors to storage rooms, he could hear that someone was talking. Then he came to an abrupt halt and leaned against the wall as he heard Neal's voice on a phone call in the next hallway around the corner.

"I don't know what put it in his head! How am I supposed to prevent him from dreaming something?!" Neal was frustrated as he listened to the continued conversation. "He blindsided me, so my reaction is more likely going to send him sleuthing than not." Another pause followed that was longer than the previous one. "Well, whether that helps divert any investigations or not, it's crossed his mind now and he won't be easy to persuade otherwise."

The conversation continued to be vague comments as Neal answered questions and seemed to be coming up with a backup plan.

Sighing as the conversation wrapped up to an end, Neal seemed resigned. "Yes, general. So the plan is for me to try and pretend nothing happened and my slip was just sheer surprise followed by amusement. However, if Peter pursues his line of thought and figures out that he's right on all counts, then he gets to sign paperwork about my Wit-sec past and agency affiliations?"

As Neal paced back closer to him, Peter could hear the essence of a professional voice through the line confirming the plan and disconnecting the call.

Then, Neal turned the corner and stopped abruptly to find Peter leaned against the wall looking at him knowingly. Without saying a word, he lifted his phone back up and hit redial. When the call connected, he said, "You might want to get that paperwork ready as soon as possible. Peter was listening to our conversation from around the corner."

When he finished the second call, Neal stood seriously before Peter. "So, I've kept my cover for years with everyone believing I'm just the criminal I pretend to be, and you just have to go and have some dream that connects the gist of my biggest secrets?"

"El was right, sometimes dreams coalesce what we know subconsciously so that we can understand what's right in front of us." Peter stood looking at Neal. His friend hadn't changed, just his perception of the man. "So, you grew up in Wit-sec which is why your past has always been a mystery and probably will remain so, while your adult means of employment is as an agent who cons people into believing he's someone he isn't while forging or stealing as the job requires."

Shrugging and unsure of what to say, Neal waited for Peter's reaction to his reveal to play through. How would he handle this?

"It must get tiring." Peter reached out to squeeze Neal's shoulder but seeing the way Neal averted his eyes, he chose to pull him into a hug. "That's why you said that remark yesterday," it was a statement, not a question.

Slowly relaxing into the hug, Neal realized that Peter wasn't angry, that he was accepting the reveal rather well. "Have you been undercover for years, become friends with those around you, but still have to make them think you're someone, something, that you're not?"

"No, and I can't imagine how tiring or painful that would be." Peter gave Neal a tighter squeeze before releasing the man while returning to his hold on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Neal… And whoever else you really are."

Startled into a chuckle, Neal asked. "Did your dream give you that too?"

"If I'm right, you're Neal, but not Caffrey?" Peter quarried for additional verification.

"Right, right again," Neal smirked at how much Peter's dream had revealed about him.

"So, I'm sure that also means you didn't commit the crimes we suspect you of while actually committing other technical crimes but on the job for whatever agency backs your work?" Peter joined Neal in smirking. It was so much better getting these answers in real life than a dream, and Neal seemed to be adjusting to his awareness.

"That's something you'll have to wonder about too." The gleam returned to Neal's eyes as he decided to mess with Peter. They could return to their old game, but with a new level of comradery.

"I'll figure that out too," Peter promised. If his dreams could reveal this, there was no telling what he could put together in his subconscious, not to mention conscious research now that he knew the truth.

"What, do you think you'll just go to sleep and have yourself another dream?" Neal quipped with a hint of amused irritation.

"Maybe, who knows what my mind's picked up but hasn't put together yet." Peter quipped before pulling Neal to walk back towards the office with him.

There were changes to their friendship and they'd have challenges ahead of them, but the truth was generally known about Neal so he didn't have to keep so many secrets and Peter wouldn't have to worry so much. How long it would take the others to catch up and what the agencies would do in response would have to be handled when it came, but no matter what, Peter would help Neal deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, commenting/reviewing, following, choosing to favorite, and leaving kudos :D
> 
> This is a short collection (for what's written thus far) so next week is the last chapter. That means it's time to vote from my completed list on my profile page again :D
> 
> Okay, this week has been busy and interesting! In short, we're going forward with moving by stepping out on faith since everything keeps selling or renting rapidly. This means that our house is on the market, we're packing and cleaning, and we're in the process of transitioning employment as we can. In addition, due to the stress in the house, our hampster, Dakota, has a minor bladder infection. With all of this going on, don't be surprised if my responses and/or posting are affected at some point and time or another.


	3. Purrtection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pinned a little brown and white kitten with blue eyes more than once as it made me think of Neal, so I decided to write this.

*******

Neal was missing.

The night he disappeared, Peter and he had been chatting for the drive to June's. They talked about their day and their plans for the evening. Peter was going home to Elizabeth while Neal was going for a run before Mozzie was expected to be done with his evening of games with June. Then he would likely get a review of whatever currently had Mozzie's interest while the shorter man raided his wine collection. Amused, Peter knew it was pretty much a typical night in the mansion so he didn't question the plans closely before dropping Neal off and heading home himself.

Later, Peter received the call from the Marshals that Neal's anklet had been cut on his run. The tracking matched the timing for him to change before going, June and Mozzie had seen him off, and a witness saw a black van unload a group of people who tackled a man of Neal's description before hauling him off. Traffic cams were able to spot what appeared to be the van but lost it in traffic with no certain identification caught due to what appeared to be intentional muddying of the license plates.

Frustrated, Peter knew they were well beyond the initial forty-eight hours, and their odds of finding Neal alive were slim.

They'd put up posters, issued alerts, scoured the streets as best they could, and Mozzie had used every line of communication into the criminal world he could in an effort to find the man.

A week had passed. Peter was certain in his gut that Neal hadn't run as this was an obvious abduction. Also, Mozzie's continued presence was reassuring, because Neal wouldn't run and leave his wingman. Would he?

*******

To some, it looked like Neal had run by organizing his own abduction, but Peter was still a staunch supporter of it being a legitimate danger to his consultant. The longer he went without finding him though, the less official support he had in the general agency.

After two weeks, the case was being passed on to other departments. Everyone knew Peter would keep looking unofficially, but officially, the case was no longer his to worry about and he was expected to return to life as normal.

*******

Hauled out to help his wife with lawn work, Peter had to admit that he wasn't getting any insight staring at the folders.

Pouring his frustrations into pulling weeds, Peter had his hands down in the dirt and was busy extracting the clumps that had rooted in the recent rains. It had been raining every day for nearly a week so they'd had plenty of water.

"Mew" there was a tiny and pathetic whimper from beneath the bushes.

Before Peter could work his way through the bushes to find it, Satchmo was there by his side snuffling his way through the growths until he found the source.

"Come back, Satchmo." Peter tried to pull the dog away from the creature but he already had it in his mouth and was lifting it out.

"Careful, honey, it sounds pretty small whatever he found." Elizabeth came up behind him.

"Satchmo let it go," Peter ordered the dog. Although he had it carefully in his teeth, it was still a tiny little creature that could be hurt or diseased.

Depositing his catch into Peter's hands, Satchmo released a tiny kitten.

The thing tottered in Peter's hands and mewed pathetically again. It was wet and dirty and looked positively miserable. There didn't appear to be any injuries and there was no sign of it having any disease.

"It's a kitten," Peter said as it bumped its head unsteadily against his finger.

"I think we need a trip to the vet," Elizabeth said. "Just to be sure he gets the care he needs and to make sure Satchmo isn't going to need anything. Besides, we got a notice that he's due for an appointment."

Leaving off the gardening, Peter held the kitten and carried it into the house while his wife looked for something to wrap it in.

Coming back with a rag, she moved to take the kitten out of his hands, but it started mewing more until she passed it back to Peter while she got Satchmo ready. Pausing and turning to look at her husband, she realized that the kitten had quieted. Reaching out to pet the little guy, she noticed that he tolerated her touch, but he sought comfort in Peter. "I think he likes you."

"I don't know why, I'm not a cat kind of guy. That's why we have a dog. We're dog people. Aren't we?" Peter seemed confused despite how he'd also noticed the kitten shivering in the rag and shifting until his head was against his finger again seeking the comfort of his touch.

"He's a Peter kitten, and to him, that's what matters." She kissed her poor befuddled husband.

While Elizabeth got Satchmo ready, Peter ended up holding the kitten and trying to clean him up a little. Gently rubbing, he tried to remove some of the muck and dry him off. "Hey, Hon, is there another rag for this little guy? This one is pretty messy, but he's cleaning up."

She called back which ones he was allowed to use.

Grabbing a stack of them, he figured that the wet and messy little creature would probably need more than one in order to clean him up and get him safely warmed again. Otherwise, he would probably get sick if he didn't already have something to deal with.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" He murmured as he used a rag to gently wipe off the tiny face. With that cleaned, he moved along the head and down the body until he had the little guy generally cleaned up; which meant a small pile of muddy rags for laundering.

"Don't worry about the laundry. I've got Satchmo in the car, so let's go." Elizabeth came up behind him.

Taking the keys as he went to grab them, she petted the kitten reminding him of her reasoning. "The poor thing has probably had enough stress. I'll drive."

Sitting while El drove, Peter watched the kitten from time to time. It seemed to be growing more relaxed as it curled into his hand with the occasional yawn splitting its tiny face. "He's exhausted."

"Who knows how long he's been out on his own? He's so small he seems hardly old enough to be weaned, maybe his mother abandoned him?" Elizabeth contemplated what circumstances might have landed the little guy in their garden.

"I don't think a little guy like this would voluntarily be on his own, at least not after all that rain. If he was out in that, it's no wonder he's soaked and dirty." Peter sat petting the little guy as he continued to relax into his hand.

Arriving at the vet's, they unloaded the animals and went in. Going through the process, they took Satchmo in and greeted the secretary at the counter, and then took their seats to wait their turn.

Sitting with the kitten, Peter was surprised when a cat got out of its carrier only to go after the kitten he was holding. The full-grown cat was hissing and had its claws extended as it aggressively tried to attack the kitten.

Holding the kitten into his chest so that his arms were in between it and the big aggressive cat, Peter worked to protect the little guy. Even though he took some scratches for it, Peter was glad he was able to protect the kitten until the owner was able to grab their cat and get it back into the carrier only garnering a few scratches for themselves.

Pulling the shaking little thing out from behind his arms, Peter noticed how much more it leaned into his touch and mewed until he put his hand over the top of it to make it feel warm and safe after the scare.

"I didn't know you two had a kitten." The vet opened conversation as they took the animals back for a joint checkup.

Carrying the kitten while El held Satchmo's leash, Peter explained as they followed into the examination room. "We found him in the landscaping. He seems to have been out in the rain as he was muddy and soaked."

"Let's give him a good look over. Do you want Satchmo to have his checkup first, or the kitten?" The vet got ready to begin.

"I think the kitten needs a more thorough checkup. We'd probably better get him set up first as he needs it more." Elizabeth said while petting the whining Satch. He knew what the vet meant, and having the kitten along didn't deter his fear.

Picking up the kitten, the vet got the same mewing treatment as Elizabeth. "He seems rather attached." Other than the comment, the vet tried to make the process as quick and painless as possible. When the process was finished, a cleaned-up little fur ball sat with his initial shots and kitten formula filling his stomach. With a yawn, he mewed for Peter while looking around for his protector.

Catching the furball while he seemed to be contemplating a leap off of the table, Peter held on to him to prevent him from doing something stupid.

"Do you know of anywhere taking kittens? We aren't sure if we want to keep him." Peter knew he had to ask, to at least know what the options were before they made their decision.

Frowning, the vet got serious. "I've known you for some time as you always bring Satchmo here, so I'm going to shoot straight with you. Considering the number of cats and kittens in this city, most places are full up, and even if he can be taken, if he doesn't get a home quickly… Unfortunately, we're overpopulated with cats."

Looking down at the brown and white little thing, Peter was surprised to see baby blues looking back up at him. The kitten put his paw on his thumb and stood up mewing at the same time. It was like he was asking for a home.

Laughing, Elizabeth could tell Peter was taken. "I guess we've got ourselves a kitten then. What should we name him?" She asked Peter while Satchmo was getting his check.

"I don't know." Peter was still trying to adjust to the presence of the little critter that had wormed its way into their lives so quickly.

"How about Neal? He's attached to you, he tried jumping off of the table so you had to catch him, and look at those persuasive baby blues, just like Neal." Elizabeth said automatically before realizing how much that would hurt her husband.

"He does remind me of Neal, but Neal's missing." Peter knew his distraction was upsetting to his wife as it interrupted their marriage, but he also knew that she understood his concern as they both worried about their friend.

"It doesn't have to be Neal, maybe we see Neal because the big one is missing. Just, think about something for him and we'll see what fits." Elizabeth kissed him before focusing on Satchmo.

Sitting while Elizabeth helped take care of Satch, Peter once again found himself watching the little guy. He was rubbing his little paw back and forth on Peter's palm as his eyes grew heavier and the yawns more frequent.

Shifting so that the little guy was cuddled to him, Peter let him fall asleep while he joined the conversation about Satchmo.

When the visit was done, the vet gave them a list of things to do for the kitten and sent them shopping for pet supplies.

*******

Arriving home after the trip, Peter set the sleeping kitten in a basket next to Satchmo's bed.

"What do you think of him boy?" He asked the dog.

Satchmo walked over and sniffed the kitten before licking him. Then he walked over to his own bed and leaned his head over into the basket allowing the kitten to shift closer to his body heat.

"I think he's willing to adopt a baby brother," Elizabeth commented from behind as she met her husband standing up with a hug and a kiss. "Have you decided what to call him? He's clearly chosen you, so it seems fitting that you pick what to call him."

"I can't get the name Neal out of my head," Peter admitted.

"Then we name him Neal. When Neal's back, we can tease him that he was our first thought when it comes to cat burglars." Elizabeth smiled into a kiss as she tried to comfort Peter.

Smiling, Peter knew Neal would appreciate it. "Then I wouldn't be able to get Neal to stop saying he was such a great cat burglar that I named my cat after him. However, there are those who call him my pet convict. I don't like it, but it could put negative connotations for him."

"What matters is why you named him Neal, not what others may see of it. He might get a hard time, but I don't think he would mind too much as long as you have the right reasoning." Elizabeth tried to ease his concerns. She didn't mention the possibility that Neal might never come back. He could have run, or he could be being held against his will in life-threatening danger. They hadn't been able to find anything and the team was frustrated, but Peter was the most worried.

Helping his wife, Peter arranged a set up near the cat bed so that the little guy wouldn't have to go far for his needs until he was a bit bigger and stronger.

With the day winding down, Peter opted to have dinner with his wife before going back to the Neal files and papers that were strewn to the side of the dining room table where it was cleared for eating space.

*******

Life began to fall into a pattern. Each morning there was the cat and dog to feed, Neal was insistent on being held or petted by Peter. He wasn't afraid to meow until Peter lifted him up to his lap while he was eating to sit and purr until it was time for Peter to grab his things and leave.

With Elizabeth, he would push her hand around in a playful fashion while she was working on her client's business details or he'd shift the papers as he played on the table. It wasn't uncommon that she found the perfect inspiration through this so she began to intentionally let him play, especially when she was stuck.

According to a cat camera system they installed to see what the animals did in the day, Neal would prowl around the house in a lap checking everything over before playing with Satchmo by hiding his toys or pulling toys for him to pursue at a moderate pace to avoid trouble.

When Elizabeth got home, Neal would walk around meowing at her while she got dinner ready. Sometimes he'd sit on the counter and paw her hand to a certain spice or to put a little more in. Oddly enough, he never ruined a meal and often made it taste better.

There was always an intermission where Satchmo would get the attention to play and go for a walk while Neal was left home alone. He usually sat waiting for them on the bottom step watching the front door or in his basket watching the back door. It always depended on which door they'd gone out of though.

In the evenings, Peter would spread his latest case and the Neal file out on the table to try and see if he could find any break. This was when Neal would attack his pens. He seemed to be trying to figure out how to hold them, but he was too small to manage them. Eventually, he'd get himself into enough trouble or wear himself out with trying that Peter would put him onto his lap to sleep or sit him in his jacket pocket as a timeout.

At bedtime, Neal would follow them upstairs and seem to make sure everyone was safely in their room for the night, and then he'd meow at their door before walking back down to his basket to keep watch. The cameras caught him making rounds through the house periodically through the night to make sure all was well. As a kitten, he struggled to climb the stairs sometimes, but he managed it.

Finally, on the weekends, Neal would accompany them out into the lawn to work. He'd pop out of the plants to startle them, he'd chase the weeds playfully, and he'd curl into Peter's pocket when he got too tired to keep up the activities. When Peter worked at the table, he'd attack his pens or sleep. If Peter watched a game then Neal was sure to be near him. Whether he cuddled into the agent or sat nearby with his paws crossed to lazily watch the activity, he was the most content when he was with Peter.

*******

Slowly, Neal grew up all too quickly. A few months passed and Neal was growing big enough to easily climb the stairs and make the leaps himself whether it was onto a lap or up to the table. He no longer required being lifted to the higher heights. Unfortunately, this also meant he couldn't fit into Peter's pockets anymore so he had to find new ways of being near the agent.

Still following Peter around, Neal liked to sit on his lap while he ate, was always on the table when he was doing paperwork to play with his pens, hung out nearby or cuddled when he watched a game and had changed to jumping onto his back at times when Peter pulled weeds.

If Peter had a bad day, Neal seemed to know whether he should pull some antic to break the tension, or if he simply needed to curl up and purr to comfort.

Growing very fond of Neal in return, Peter liked to lean back on the couch while Neal curled on his chest after a bad day. He'd run his fingers through his fur and talk about whatever case had him struggling or his worry and frustration if he'd run into another dead end on the latest potential clue regarding human Neal. The cat had become cathartic, much like talking to the man had once been.

*******

One morning, Peter was looking over his paperwork to pack it up when he noticed something scrawled on a corner. 'Neal' had been written in poor handwriting not matching his own writing or his wife's. Puzzled, he wondered if maybe he'd taken to writing in his sleep. He already talked, so maybe the stress of missing Neal was reaching a new height?

Unable to come up with a better explanation, he finished packing the documents into his briefcase and continued about his morning routine until it was time for work.

*******

A week later there was a new message. "I am Neal," was scrawled onto a piece of paper sitting on the dining room table. Neal lay nearby playing with a pen.

Assuming his dreams were taking a weird twist, Peter sat that page on top before deciding to turn a camera towards the table. Maybe he could catch himself and confirm his theory?

*******

When the next message showed, it was just scribbles that oddly looked similar to a cat's outline without defined features. The camera only showed Neal playing with the pen and no sign of Peter sleepwalking. Was it a coincidence that the scribble looked like a cat when it appeared to be drawn by a cat?

*******

Growing more puzzled by the cat's appearance at talent, Peter wondered if it was just another quark that made up Neal, or if it was crazy to think there was something more. His gut seemed inclined to think there was something more, but his brain couldn't figure it out.

Lying on the couch one evening while Elizabeth was working late with an event, Peter chose to pet Neal and ask the cat. "Are you trying to tell me something? I don't appear to be sleepwalking, and the camera has only caught you playing with the pen, but the next morning there's a drawing of a cat. That's not normal."

"Meow" Neal nodded at him before butting his hand for pets and purring vibrations into his chest. The cat seemed pleased with himself over something, but what, Peter could only guess.

Later, when Peter was making another attempt to find reason in his case, Neal sifted through the papers until he found the one that said, "I am Neal." Then he pawed it across the table until it came to rest in front of Peter. Tapping his paw on the sentence, he then touched his paw to himself.

"You are Neal? That's impossible!" Peter didn't believe what he was seeing. The cat claimed to be his consultant? Pushing the cat just forcefully enough to make him move Peter then took the paper and put it back in its place.

Leaning into his hands, he tried to blink back the mist forming in his eyes while putting it off as fatigue. It had been so long since he'd seen his friend. Now he was imagining his cat was actually Neal?

"Elizabeth is right; I need to sleep more. This is getting to me." Peter shuffled the papers around before getting up to lock up for the night.

Looking around once the house was secured; he realized that it was the first time his little shadow wasn't at his heels doing the rounds with him. Feeling bad, he knew Neal didn't deserve his frustrations with the human version, he was a cat after all and was only playing with Peter much like he always did.

Unable to find him after his initial search, Peter opted to consult Satchmo. "Where's Neal, boy?"

The dog yawned and then got up to lead him to the couch. Lying on the floor, he put his nose under before looking back at Peter and whining.

Shifting Satchmo back, Peter took his place and looked underneath the couch. Seeing dark shadows, he went for a flashlight before shining it into the recesses. Spotting Neal, he noticed that the cat turned away to face the wall and refused to come out regardless of calls or orders.

Laying there on the floor, Peter sighed. At least Satchmo was easier to appease when he was upset. Neal, he seemed sulky, like the human. "You aren't going to make this easy on me, are you?"

There was no response. Not like Peter expected one, but it would have been nice to be recognized.

What was it Elizabeth was always telling him, to apologize to Satchmo if he upset him? It couldn't hurt to try. Also, it would at least be easier than trying to pull out the couch to retrieve the cat and it would make him feel less guilty for upsetting the furball.

"I'm sorry, alright. You don't deserve to be pushed off of the table. Now, will you come out?" Peter part sighed and part huffed. He wasn't good at emotions with humans, and it felt so much more awkward talking to a cat.

"Meow," it was pitiful and sad. Something Peter hadn't heard since the guy was a tiny kitten soaking wet and muddy hiding in the landscaping.

"Come here, Neal," Peter signed relieved to have gotten a reaction.

Slowly, Neal crawled out from under the couch and laid his head into Peter's side.

Picking him up, Peter was surprised to see tracks through his fur like the cat had been crying under the couch. Furrowing his brows, he watched as the cat ducked his head and shifted like he wanted to get away from his scrutiny.

Lowering the cat to keep a better hold of him, Peter curled him into his chest and sat there petting him. It was comforting to both of them.

After a while, his head was starting to bob so Peter lifted Neal up onto the couch with him where he could lay down while still cuddling the cat to his chest. Still running his fingers through Neal's fur, Peter felt himself drifting off to sleep.

*******

Although Peter couldn't believe that Neal was his cat, it also seemed strange that the cat seemed capable of writing messages, drawing pictures, and deliberately pointing to a particular sentence and then himself invoking meaning. How many cats cried under the couch in reaction to a human not believing them?

Peter couldn't work it all out, but he knew that something was different about this kitten Neal. He wasn't normal for a cat.

So, Peter watched. He started to compile any notes he found, he saved any recordings of Neal that seemed strange and kept mental notes.

*******

One evening, Peter didn't come home. He'd left the office and security traced his path to a point, but then he vanished.

Going into action, the team went to work trying to find Peter.

*******

Lying in a cell, Peter regained consciousness to unfamiliar surroundings. It was underground based on the dampness with no windows in the room, the bars were solidly in cement, and he was chained to the wall.

Shivering, he tried to get loose until his eyes grew heavy. He didn't have any way to pick the locks on the shackles and his hands were too big to pull out. The other end of the chain was cemented into the wall and he couldn't get enough oomph or leverage to budge it.

Wrapping his arms around himself for warmth, Peter knew the team would be looking for him. He was abducted from the Federal Plaza after all and the cameras had to have seen at least some of what transpired.

In the meanwhile, he was falling asleep and waiting for rescue.

*******

Jolting awake, Peter heard a familiar meow and wondered how Neal had accessed his cell. Cuddling the cat for warmth, he was glad for the purring as it helped to calm the shivers wracking through his body. Drifting off again, he wasn't aware of Neal stealing away.

*******

The next morning, Elizabeth found Neal sitting on the dining room table with Peter's badge on the table in front of him.

"How did you get this?" Elizabeth asked as she picked the badge up. Peter had taken it to work with him, and it hadn't been left at the scene. Besides, how would Neal have gotten it from Federal Plaza if it had fallen out of his pocket in the struggle?

Calling Hughes, Elizabeth reported that Neal had Peter's badge. Then per his request, she put Neal into a carrier with the badge and hauled him to the Bureau for an official check over.

*******

Once Neal had been checked for any signs of where he might have found the badge, he was being held in the conference room while Hughes, Jones, and Diana observed him.

Escaping his carrier, Neal bolted across the table to a tracking anklet. Sliding his head through it, he had it around his neck above his collar when he sat proudly and meowed at them.

Reaching to remove it, Diana pulled back when Neal hissed and bared his teeth at her.

"I think he wants to wear the tracking anklet." Jones almost laughed. "Maybe he's more like the human Neal than we give him credit for?"

"Peter seems to think so; he named the cat for him didn't he?" Diana frowned.

"Why not let him wear it?" Jones suddenly sat up straight. "Hear me out," he put his hands up to forestall their comments. "If he found Peter, maybe Peter is trying to reach out to us by giving him his badge. Then Neal can return to him and lead us too."

Pondering the suggestion, Hughes seemed to be giving it serious consideration when Jones put it that way. "Alright, but make sure the tracker isn't something he's going to wiggle out of and lead us on a wild chase. If he finds Peter again, I want a sure path of how to follow."

Taking the challenge, Jones and Diana went about sizing the tracker so that the cat wasn't able to lose it, but so that it wasn't so tight as to harm either. Then they activated it and sent Neal home with Elizabeth.

*******

That evening, Neal slipped out of the door and started walking down the alley. On the street side, the van started up and the agents followed.

Meandering along the path again, Neal made his way into a more industrial part of the city not too far from the Burke's residence. Once he reached his destination, he stowed himself to watch and listen where he couldn't be seen.

When he got the chance, he slipped into the building and worked his way down to the cell.

Finding Peter shivering from the cold again, he bumped his head into him to gain his attention.

"Neal, what are you doing here? Is that a tracker you're wearing?" Peter lifted the cat into his lap and checked the anklet over. "The team is following you aren't they? I noticed that my badge was missing so I assume you took it. Maybe there is something to you being Neal?"

Ruffling Neal's fur more than petting as a particularly hard shiver ran through his body, Peter pulled his hand back for a moment trying to calm his reaction to the cold.

Once he was ready, Peter shifted Neal off of him and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Wedging it around the anklet, he hoped the cavalry wouldn't be too far away. "Go get them, Neal."

Purring, Neal hopped into his lap, walked up his chest reaching to put his head against Peter's chin, and meowed. Then he left.

*******

Waiting in the van not too far away, Jones and Diana heard meowing before a loud thud overhead indicated that Neal was walking on top of the van to get their attention.

Opening the door and retrieving him, Jones crowed, "He's got Peter's wallet!"

Dialing Hughes, Diana shared the good news and the boss started the process of getting a warrant to make an entry.

Passing the time until they could get their boss, the agents sat watching Neal as he walked around the van anxiously. Then, he took his seat next to one of the monitors and began to play with Diana's open phone.

Grabbing it away from him when he noticed, Jones' eyes got wider. "Umm, Diana, you might want to see this." He passed the phone over to her.

"What?" She accepted it and then gasped. It said, 'I am Neal,' in a text to Neal.

"No way!" She didn't believe what she was seeing, but she was seeing it.

Pawing at her to give him the phone back, Neal began tapping again. Then he pushed it towards her. 'They turned me into a cat.'

"Peter is so not going to believe this," Jones said as he read the message before Neal pawed for the phone back.

"Told him, he didn't," Neal answered.

Then Neal turned his head towards the door as the rest of the agents arrived. While everyone prepared to make their approach, he was forgotten to the side.

*******

Slipping out behind everyone, Neal followed the agents on their approach safely from behind so that he wouldn't distract anyone or get caught in the middle should anything go wrong.

Diverting off to a side hallway, Neal caught Jones' and Diana's attention before directing them to follow him down to where Peter was being held. Stepping back when they reached the door, he pawed for them to go while he came behind. He couldn't protect Peter, but they could.

Back to following, he waited until they had the room secured ensuring no one was in there other than Peter before he squeezed through the bars and going to Peter to help him keep warm until they could get him out of the cell.

Listening to their conversation, he heard them tell Peter about the texts and his response that he'd found written notes and a cat scribble.

"Thank you, Neal," Peter whispered between the shivers as he held Neal close to his chest and tangled his fingers into his fur for warmth.

Wiggling out of Peter's grasp at Jones' call, Neal retrieved first his jacket and then Diana's to help Peter have better insulation against the cold. Then with his mission accomplished, he returned to curling into Peter's chest and was rewarded with a decrease in Peter's shivers.

When Hughes brought the keys down from one of the abductors, he opened the door and then the shackles freeing his agent.

While their attention was on Peter, Neal ducked under one of the jackets and drug it across the floor to the lab on the other side of the room.

Jumping up onto the table, he pawed at the vials until he found the one that he wanted. Knocking the tube over, he broke it causing the liquid to spill across the table. Lapping some up, he got it into his system before the agents were there pulling him back.

*******

Watching in horror, Peter realized too late that Neal was drinking some strange concoction up from a broken vial. Moving behind Jones and Diana, Peter wasn't able to get his cold body moving fast enough to stop the cat.

Diana pulled Neal away and held him while Jones tried to carefully look at the vial's label.

"I can't read it. It's not in English." Jones said as he took a picture of it.

Wrapping the shaking cat up in her coat, Diana felt the moment when he stopped moving. "I, I think he's dead. He isn't moving anymore."

Closing his eyes, Peter felt sick. Even if Neal was just a cat, he was smart enough to rescue him and make them consider him being Neal. He didn't deserve to die, and just like the human Neal, Peter had failed to protect him.

Passing him over to Peter, Diana knew that whether he was the human turned into a cat or just a cat, he was closest to Peter so the agent would want the closure.

Putting his hand onto the fur, Peter was surprised to find it so hot. "He's burning up, and it's not because I'm cold, I was holding him a few minutes ago and he's a lot hotter than he was." Something was happening.

Sitting Neal down on the floor, Peter kept his hand on him while he tried to look him over and see if there was any visible tell to indicate what was going on. "Why aren't cats more like dogs?" He muttered as he had no idea what to look for.

Then, they all noticed that the cat was showing some skin, that he wasn't quite so covered in fur. That patch of skin grew and his body seemed to be elongating, stretching out into a different shape. The more he changed, the more human he appeared until they had a full-sized Neal lying naked in Diana's coat. He was panting, but breathing and alive.

Ignoring the comments behind him, Peter finally understood that Neal had in fact been turned into a kitten. He'd sought sanctuary with him until he was able to reverse his situation. Saving his life and having them all as witnesses were just extra benefits.

Groaning, Neal seemed to be regaining focus on his surroundings and glanced up at Peter with a muddled expression before lowering his head back down. "Told you," he muttered.

Ruffling his hair in a friendly fashion, Peter acknowledged it. "Yeah, you did, and I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

"So, Neal's been at your home, as your kitten?" Hughes was trying to catch up.

"Apparently, he was turned into a kitten, managed to escape, and came to us. El and I have raised him for the last few months, and then when I was taken he found me. When I woke up again he and my badge were gone. Then he brought you back here tonight and decided to turn himself back human while he was at it. With us as witnesses, we at least know he didn't run." Peter was relieved to have the mystery solved. Although he might miss the cat from time to time, he was glad to have his human friend back.

"I say we claim Neal was in the cell next to Peter. Since he's been here longer, they experimented on him so he has no clothes and the chains prevented him from running. It provides a neat explanation for anyone wondering how we found him in this condition without us looking crazy. As for your cat Neal, you can see he ran away, or he got out and didn't come back. Maybe he got hurt in the rescue situation here?" Diana started spinning stories to explain the strange circumstances before them.

"It works, but we have to have our stories straight without being rehearsed." Hughes went into problem-solving on how to pass their lies off as facts without raising suspicion.

"I got killed in the crossfire, loyal to the end." Neal's fatigued input was added to the conversation.

"Don't worry about this Neal. You and Peter need to go to the hospital and get checked out. Jones, how about you see to it that they're taken care of. Diana and I will handle the situation here and then update you and Peter for the report's sake." Hughes gave directions before tossing Jones his car keys.

Wrapping a few jackets around Neal, they waited for the paramedics to arrive and take both him and Peter away in the ambulance. This way they got a more private entrance into the ER while also not being separated quite so soon after the reveal of where Neal had been hiding for so long.

*******

Driving behind, Jones was waiting in the lobby when they were released. Neal had a pair of scrubs on and his blood work came back nearly normal. There wasn't any major concern, but they advised someone keeping an eye on him for a few days to be certain. Peter volunteered stating Neal was staying with them a little longer. He only had a low body temperature and some stress symptoms as a result of his captivity.

Catching a ride home with Jones, they were met by Hughes and Diana who wanted to get their story straight. Standing in the driveway, they discussed the general idea of what to report but left the exact wording to each one and their imagination to vary it up.

With the work stuff done as much as it was going to be for the night, Peter walked Neal into the house where Elizabeth met them at the door.

Hugging Peter and kissing him, she was thrilled to have him back safe and sound.

Then realizing that Neal was following, she was surprised to see him after so long. "Where've you been?"

"It's a long story we'll discuss with you tomorrow after some sleep. Peter has some evidence, but mostly having seen the end results along with Hughes, Jones, and Diana is his primary proof." Neal refused to detail anything further and started towards the couch to go to sleep.

"No you don't, you haven't slept on a bed in months. Come on, Neal. You're sleeping in the guest room." Peter caught his arm before pushing him up the stairs ahead of him and Elizabeth. Reaching the hallway, he pulled Neal into a hug before directing him on to his room for the night. "No prowling around tonight, go to sleep."

"What do you mean by that?" Elizabeth questioned as they walked on to their room.

"In the morning, Elizabeth," Neal answered before closing the door.

*******

Waking up in the night, Peter heard something akin to meowing and immediately thought of cat Neal before he remembered the human in the guest room.

Getting up, he slipped down the hall and into the room.

Neal jolted up awake likely realizing that someone was close.

"It's just me, Neal." Peter voiced through the darkness. "You seemed to be having a nightmare as I could hear you all the way into our room."

Neal sat up while Peter settled on the edge of the bed. "What was I saying?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter answered, "You were meowing, at least a human variation. Was it something from the last few months?"

"Let's just say that life as a cat may be easier in some respects, but it's horrible to fear being stuck that way for life." Neal didn't go into detail.

He probably didn't want him to know the fears he'd faced through the experience, but Peter knew it had to be frightening as he remembered tear tracks running down a cat's face.

Reaching out, Peter pulled Neal into a hug extending the comfort they both needed, but he refrained from any motion that could be construed as petting. Neal was a human again and probably wouldn't appreciate it. "I'll never know what that was like from your perspective, but I don't miss the worry. You seemed to have vanished as there was no sign and almost everyone concluded that you'd orchestrated it to run."

"You didn't. I watched you worry about me, but I had no idea how to tell you." Neal sighed into his shoulder.

"And I didn't believe you when you did. It seemed so inconceivable, but yet, my gut knew that you weren't normal, that there was something about you. But who would believe you'd been turned into a cat?" Peter was glad to have his friend human again and safely where he could watch him.

"The team does now, but witnessing me changing back certainly helped with that." Neal seemed to be drifting off again.

"It certainly did." Lowering Neal back to where he was laying down, Peter patted his shoulder before heading back to bed himself.

*******

In the morning, Neal got up and grabbed some spare clothes he kept there before taking a shower to clean up. He'd worry about shaving when he got home, but at least being clean and human was a good start.

Making his way downstairs, he joined the Burkes for breakfast.

Sitting with his food, Neal noticed Peter occasionally looking at him. As Peter seemed to be reassuring himself that he was still human and safe, he tolerated it despite the feeling of exposure it evoked.

"Are you two going to explain yet?" Elizabeth commented to transition the conversation from general morning greetings to alleviating her curiosity

Pointing at the cat things, Neal dove in. "You won't need that anymore. I'm me again." Then he listened to Peter back him up while he ate the first real meal he'd had in months.

"What he means, is that Neal the cat was Neal the human, but he's human again." Peter held up his hands to forestall Elizabeth's bubbling laughter while Neal tried to ignore her humor. "Don't laugh, I know it sounds ludicrous, but I have recordings of cat Neal writing messages to me, Diana has the text messages he typed in front of her and Jones, and the team Jones, Diana, Hughes, and I all witness him… change? We're going to doctor our reports to indicate that Neal was their prisoner long term and that cat Neal disappeared in the raid. This way we can explain away his disappearance because he didn't run but no one will think we're crazy because we can't say he was here as our cat."

"Oh," Elizabeth seemed uncertain of how to approach the situation.

"I know it's weird and probably hard to believe, but you should know as I have no intention of being your cat again. It was great in its own way, to be here with you guys all the time. However, I really prefer being human. That's how I was born after all." Neal winked at her and tried to lighten the mood gliding past his admission of how much he enjoyed being around them. If he didn't draw attention to it, just maybe they'd miss it.

"That's why you were so attached to Peter." Elizabeth seemed accepting, but she also pointed out something else Neal didn't want to openly acknowledge.

Trying to glide on over his feelings again, Neal shrugged. "It's a big world out there to a tiny kitten."

"I bet it is. And it's nice to have a big FBI agent to watch out for you." Elizabeth smiled and kissed her husband before leaving to finish getting ready for work. She had a client event she had to finalize based on her parting comments.

Neal knew she was also probably relieved for the excuse to leave as it couldn't be easy to be faced with the reveal without previous build-up to help prepare. She would need time to come to terms.

Once she left, Peter turned and smiled slightly at Neal.

"What?" Neal didn't know what to do with his friend. Had he caught the depth of what had been hinted at?

"You do know you're welcome here, anytime?" Peter had obviously caught it after all, but he seemed pleased to have Neal wanting to be around him.

Putting on a smiling mask, Neal teased, "You aren't tired of me yet? I've been your constant house guest for months."

"No, we're not tired of you. Not because it's my job to keep an eye on you, not because you're a pet convict as some call you, but because you're our friend. We want you around." Peter made sure to get his attention before stating his acceptance.

Jumping as Satchmo put his head on his lap holding one of his toys; Neal heard his whimper and was glad for the distraction. If he played with Satchmo he wouldn't have to face Peter.

"Sorry, buddy. I can't run around on your level anymore." He petted the dog's head and gave him a good scratch behind each ear.

Satchmo dropped the toy in his lap and then walked away before returning.

"You want me to hide it for you again?" Neal knew the game, it was the same thing he'd been doing with the dog since he was big enough to haul the toys.

"How about you keep him busy and I'll get the dishes." Peter released him while moving to begin stacking the breakfast dishes.

Dodging acknowledging the emotions in the air, Neal agreed to the arrangement before ducking off to occupy Satchmo.

Spending some time hiding the toy and then waiting for Satchmo to track it down and bring it to him, Neal seemed to be looking at the house in a different way.

When Peter joined him on the couch while he waited for Satchmo to return from their latest round, he commented. "Does it feel different to you? You've been staring around oddly."

"Yeah, I mean, this was home for several months. I slept over there, joined you guys for meals, and hung out with you all the time. Then there are those shelves over there. As a human, I don't think I could even reach under them. But, for some reason, I have a horde of random odds and ends under there… just so you know. Personally, I blame the cat instincts." He opened his eyes wider and held up his hands defensively like it wasn't him, but some other cat that had stored random things in a horde.

Laughing, Peter couldn't seem to help it but whether it was at Neal's expression of denial or the horde of random things his cat self had collected Neal didn't know.

"Satchmo used to lose everything under a set of shelves over there. Then we got a set that goes to the floor and we haven't found his horde place again." Throwing his arm across Neal's shoulders, Peter leaned back into the couch to relax.

Pulled along, Neal felt himself tense up a little.

"Relax, Neal. You were still in there and human, but they did turn you into a cat. I don't blame you for acting like a cat under the influence so stop blaming yourself. They did things to you and it wasn't your fault." Peter talked to him while looking out over the room. "And don't worry about me. Yes, there are aspects I enjoyed about you being a cat. For one, I think you're the only cat I could stand and that's probably because it was you. Two, I enjoyed your companionship with you being around all the time. However, I prefer you in human form. Where I can talk cases through with you and work with you daily in the field knowing you have my back out there. Sure, I want time with my wife, but I want my friend around too. So, you'd better drop by some weekends, come over for dinner occasionally during the week, and hang out from time to time. I know you probably won't come around for games, but it didn't seem to bother too badly before."

Finding himself relaxing, Neal didn't know what to say. It wasn't normal for Peter to openly express himself like that. "You really did miss me, didn't you?"

Squeezing him closer in a sideways hug, Peter confirmed, "You bet I did."

"Games aren't really so bad, as long as I'm not forced to watch." Neal conceded knowing Peter would get his meaning.

"Good, then I can watch one while I do my reports." Peter turned on the television, set the channel, and turned the volume down before getting his forms and leaning back into the couch.

Knowing he was growing tired, Neal knew the game gave Peter something he enjoyed while he was probably going to sleep through it anyway. Leaning his head back like he was observing the ceiling, he felt his eyes close as he drifted off. The last thing he consciously remembered was his head lolling over to Peter's shoulder as the agent pulled him into a more comfortable position.

*******

After getting resettled into the loft with June and having Mozzie run through a wide variety of theories for how the experimentation might affect him, Neal was glad to return to the office.

Riding up the elevator, he heard a muttered comment about Burke's pet convict, but it caused him to smile much to the confusion of those in hearing range. He had been Peter's pet convict for a few months and in many ways, he'd rather enjoyed it. Their friendship was better for it and everything got cleared up in the end.

Walking into the office, he was happy to be greeted back and to take his seat much like he always did. It was almost exactly like he'd left it, but everything was shifted about from the many agents who'd rifled through looking for clues about his master plan to run.

"People seriously thought I'd planned to run right here, literally under your noses?" Neal commented to Jones and Diana as they stood over his desk.

"That was a possible theory," Diana said with a shrug. "You are the daring Neal Caffrey after all."

"If nothing else, you might have left some clue without knowing it." Jones grinned knowing Neal wasn't one for leaving clues.

"Uh-huh," Neal bantered with them until they were called up to the morning meeting.

Getting his sludge and taking the seat next to Peter, Neal started fidgeting with his rubber band ball until it was taken away by Peter.

"Welcome back, Neal," Hughes generally acknowledged him before getting down to the business of the morning meeting.

Smiling, Neal enjoyed it all. It was good to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, leaving kudos, reviewing, following, and choosing to favorite :D
> 
> There weren't any votes this week, so I'm going to continue down the list through the oldest stories to proceed with Rejection's Rift :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading, reviewing, and leaving kudos :D


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